


Over the Edge, Over Again

by vvinterdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, M/M, POV Castiel, Perdition, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:32:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4568094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vvinterdean/pseuds/vvinterdean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel recalls his first time meeting Dean Winchester, and what transpired before, during, and after raising him from perdition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over the Edge, Over Again

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title is a reference to PotC. I do what I want. ;P
> 
> Also, tw: lots of gore, lots of angst, lots of being dead  
> and maybe a hiiiint of Destiel. Just a smidgen.

It’s hard to explain what it is to fall into The Pit. You fall over the edge for a day, a year, an eternity. Time passes differently. Then, you open your eyes and you’re dead. Dead to the world, dead to yourself. People romanticize it. The women weep and the men stare into the sun, as if that’s where they’ll find you. But you’re not there. You don’t know the sun, or the taste of the air, or the smell of dirt. Where you’ve gone there’s nothing. There’s nothing. No one can come back from that. But he did.

Dean did.

Every day, he burned and he drowned in a lake of fire. Every day, his skin was peeled back and his muscles were frayed and torn. He didn’t recognize himself. He didn’t know Dean. The hair was burnt from his head, his eyes were red and swollen. His jaw wasn’t that of a man, but of an animal, ready to tear at the throat of anyone who got too close. Who he had become, I don’t know. But he was worthy. That I knew. He was worthy of being saved.

When I entered The Pit I smelled death. I smelled sweat. I smelled blood. There were bodies, some moving, some still. It was a dark hallway, but there was a door ahead. A red-tinged light spilled out from underneath. When I opened it…. When I opened that door, I met Dean.

Screaming, writhing, and broken was the sight that met my eyes. And angry. He was so angry. That’s how I knew who he was. Though he was dead, his spirit still fought with a rage I had never before seen. Around him there was fire. There were shadows with dark eyes and long, bony fingers. Between their teeth was sinew and skin. Dean’s.

I pitied him and I admired him. But I was afraid. His eyes found mine and out of his mouth came an inhuman shriek. He burnt a hole right through me with a look of pure detestation. Yet there was recognition. I was no shadow, no monster. I was the sun and the light. I was hope.

When I grabbed him it was as if I had grabbed a bolt of lightning. The skin on my hands began to blister and burn, but I held fast. As did he. His fingers dug into my skin, no doubt drawing blood. He was screaming, his voice hoarse, speaking words I couldn’t distinguish. It didn’t sound human. It sounded dark and ancient, but I refuse to dwell.

When our skin met we rose above the chaos and destruction, flying to the light. Darkness followed us, it chased us with a vengeance, but we were faster. Together, Dean and I escaped. When we broke through the barrier between worlds, he went silent and limp. He was in an eternal rest.

I laid him deep in the earth, surrounded by trees and grass. There were small woodland creatures scurrying around. Tiny life. Something Dean could appreciate when he saw it.

His body had healed. His skin had returned, his muscles were strong. There were no cuts, no marks, no wounds on his body. Save for one. His arm bore a mark in the shape of a handprint. It was mine. I didn’t have to mark him, but I did. I felt a connection to him that I had felt with no other. It was selfish. I wanted to claim him. When others saw him I wanted them to know he was under my watch. He belonged to me.

The sun was high in the sky now. It must have taken mere moments to save him, but it felt like a war had been waged within me. I felt aged within my bones.

Dean stirred.

His life was beginning anew. He was alive.

It was an impossible choice, to leave or to stay. I wanted so desperately to be there when he awoke. To tell him he was alright and that he needn’t worry. But he didn’t recognize me anymore. He didn’t know my face. I chose to leave him. Dean was strong. Stronger than I had anticipated. He would survive well on his own. But should he ever need me, I would be there. Should he need help or guidance, protection or sanctuary; should he need a companion, I would be there.

I was, after all, the one who gripped him tight and raised him from Perdition.


End file.
